


Beautiful

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-13
Updated: 2004-08-13
Packaged: 2019-05-15 12:24:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14790471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: "One long, cold snowy night in his White House office their eyes will meet and their faces will be too close. He will think she's beautiful."





	Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

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Beautiful

One long, cold snowy night in his White House office their eyes will meet and their faces will be too close. He will think she’s beautiful.

She will stand abruptly, tripping over her words as she leaves, her perfume lingering in the air.

 

He will regret her absence and grieve over the love they never shared. He will rise in a flurry of guilt for not asking her when he had the chance, and he’ll stalk to her office and ask her to join him for dinner.

He will check the sauce to see if it needs salt and then he’ll burn the pasta and curse because he ruined a perfectly good meal and he won’t be able to find the candles he packed away when he and Andi divorced. But he’ll order Chinese and he’ll light a fire in the fireplace and he’ll give her a pink rose sprinkled with water. She’ll blush and smile and sink down onto the soft, cushy beige carpet and eat fried rice at the polished, oak coffee table. She’ll take a sip of the silvery liquid (it will tickle her throat) and he’ll say that champagne and Chinese should always be had together.

He’ll say something stupid and something witty and she’ll laugh, a full, throaty laugh. He will watch her face light up and think how beautiful she is with the light from the fire catching shimmering, strawberry blonde strands.

And sometime later when the champagne has taken effect and they both feel warm and fuzzy, she will lean in and barely touch her lips to his in an almost kiss. He’ll watch through half closed eyelids heavy with desire, a grin tickling his beard, and run fingers over her cheeks, lingering a little too long. Then, he will pull her towards him and their lips will meet. She will run her tongue along his bottom lip seeking admittance. When their lungs burn for oxygen they will pull back and he will stand her up. He will be almost as tall as her when her shoes have been discarded and she’s standing with her toes pushed into soft carpet.

They will leave a trail of clothes to the bedroom, her shirt on the chair, his trousers on the rug, her skirt and hoes in the hall, her bra on the door handle. He will make her wait so he can look at her in all her 6-foot glory. She will become shy and nervous and so will he, wishing for pockets to put his hands in. Then she will be the brave one and gently run a finger down his torso, over his chest and slightly toned abs that are slowly starting to disappear with age.  She’ll push him backwards and he’ll topple onto the mattress.

It won’t be love.

The first time they will forgo the foreplay. They’ll rock together; they’ll be quick and needy. She’ll scream his name and he will whisper “Oh God” in her ear.

The second time will be slow and sensual. He will be cautious of her needs and she’ll caress his burning flesh. They will watch each other release.

In the morning they’ll be wrapped in snow white sheets and will be late for Senior Staff. The President will smile when he sees their hands brush and their faces grin guiltily.

Their lust will remain as days go unnoticed and weeks slip by and months disappear. Neither will admit to love.

Then one sunny spring day their relationship will be discovered and he will mutter under his breath,

“What a mess we’re in. What a beautiful fucked-up mess.”

Their feelings for each other will be dissected and analyzed and put on a plate for the world to view. He will hate being question by the press. The world will wonder if they can stay objective while working together. The President will back them up.

They will stand to the side and do their jobs and run the country. There will be more Chinese nights and burned pasta. There will be spring nights and summer nights.

They will admit to love.

On a long, snowy day he will sit in his White House office and watch her crack a witty remark and he will think she’s beautiful.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Fin.


End file.
